Tom lay in bed patiently waiting for his wife to come to him as she did every night. Soon she appeared in the doorway.
A smile slowly spread across his face as she made her way to the bed. Her long chestnut hair fell in waves over her
shoulders and bounced slightly when she walked. Her body was beautifully proportioned and the blue silk nightgown
she wore accentuated every voluptuous curve. She had yet to reach him, but he could smell the sweet perfume, could
see the look of longing in her eyes. Even though she had come to him this way every night, it remained always like the
first time he’d held her. Every kiss, every touch, ever soft whisper was new and exciting. Each night he found that he
wanted her more.
The pleasure she gave him was better than anything he’d ever known. When he was with her everything was right;
he felt safe, secure, on top of the world.
Later when she would leave him, he would beg her not to go. She gives him a gentle kiss and his tears silently begin to
fall when she disappears as quickly as she had appeared.
It is always the flowing of his tears which awakens him each night at
this time. He does not bother to wipe them away as he turns on the bedside lamp and stares at the two photographs on
his nightstand. One is a picture of his wife on the day they wed, over 30 years ago; the other...
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